Tuesday, August 07, 2007

handmower

Monday morning of a long weekendshe opens one eye to check the clock7:14reclaiming her share of the sheets, she turns to sleep again

8:22she’s aware of a sound outsidemust be someone mowing their lawnwith a handmowerthe rhythmic push, rest, and spin of itthoughtful not to break the morning too early with motor soundsshe thinksand sleeps again

some time latereyes still shut tightshe knows from stillness he’s awakethe mower’s still mowing somehwere out backwhat time is it?9, he saysshe’s on top of the sheet, he’s underneathsilly morning sandwich in a bed all askew from dream-wanderingsshe opens eyes“if you let the dog out and come back, I’ll stay”takes 5 minutes to register, but he goesshe jumps up to pee, fluffs pillows, straightens sheet and crawls back inthe mower still mows

who is mowing and where?our yards are too small for long mowing like thatis someone cutting hay? or grooming a putting green?maybe it’s someone thinking while they mowsomeone who lost track of the mowing whilesorting out a problemmaybe it’s a man whose wife left early to work at the hospital or 7-11 this holiday Mondaymaybe he’s got nothing to do and he wishes she’d stayedso he mows the lawn and thinks about what (or if) to say

maybe his wife didn’t come home last night, after her shift as anambulance drivermaybe he knows in his heart that she’s left him for the other ambulance driveror the admissions woman at the hospitalbecause she always phones him when she works a double shiftso she must be goneand he’s crying while he mows the lawn

maybe it’s a woman mowing the lawnher kids are inside eating Captain Crunchwatching cartoonswhile her husband pops out to get the paper and Starbucks for both of themso they can sip and read while the kids veg in their pajamasbut first she needs to mow the lawn

maybe it’s a young man whose parents are coming homeafter leaving him the house for the long weekend(he only had one small party on Saturday nightand nothing got broken, and he’s tossed out the beer cans)he just remembered that he promised to mow the lawnwhile they were goneand they’re due back at noon

now it’s 9:17and she thinks how her husband bought a handmower last yearmaybe the neighbour borrowed it from their backyardnot many people have handmowersmaybe her neighbour left the gate partway openthe latch is trickyand when her husband in his dressing gown and no glasseslet the dog out to peethe dog found the open gate and escapednow her husband is roaming the neighbourhood calling for the dogbefore he finds the dog, he’ll meet the neighbour mowing the lawnand find out who it is, what’s the storyhe’ll come back and tell heronly it can’t be as interesting as she’s imagined

for old married couples,morning sex is like those two bags of bagels waiting in the cupboarda matter-of-fact choice of multi-grain or everythingor maybe just coffee for nownourishing and predictableno bedsheet havoc or vocal abandon(especially with teenage offspring still sleeping nearby)a happy choice with little pressurethere’ll always be more availablewhenever you’re really hungry

he slips through the doorand into the sheets, open for him“they’re fed” he says“I know” she saysoutside the handmower is silent